


Buoyant

by sincerelymendacious



Category: Psychonauts
Genre: F/M, Sasha and Milla get high, and then they get HIGH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 04:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelymendacious/pseuds/sincerelymendacious
Summary: Milla can't seemed to stop levitating, much to Sasha's annoyance.





	Buoyant

_Milla. Get down here._

Milla, hovering above Sasha's head in a dark alley next to the club they had just exited, wondered how in the world he expected her to take him seriously right now. He was squinting up at her, his gray eyes slightly unfocused and his glasses perched on his head for reasons she didn't know. He jaw was clenched so tight that she could see a vein poking out of it, likely the reason his command had been thought and not spoken. Milla gnawed on her now flavorless piece of gum and considered offering it to him, if only to loosen him up a little.

It hadn't hit him yet, that much was obvious. If it had, he wouldn't have told her to come down; he'd have been right up there with her. As it was, there was no way that she could comply with his order, not when it seemed like the very air she breathed was turning into helium in her lungs. She was just so full of love right now. Love for the glittering lights of the city that surrounded them, for the pounding bass beat still audible through the walls of the club, for the woman with hair like spun-gold who had let Milla run her hands through all those soft strands, and love for Sasha, so much love for him, enough to keep her heart, mind and body afloat.

She was in love with her dress, too. The material of it was satiny, the pattern a flashy mix of pink and purple swirls. It felt so good on her skin- on her stomach, on her back, on the tops of her thighs- and she couldn't stop running her hands over it. The dress was like liquid silk, running through her fingers and Milla was sorely tempted to take it off, just so she could press it against her face.

 _Milla, please._ Sasha glanced out down the alley. For a few seconds he thought nothing, distracted by the blinking light of a neon sign across the street. He shook his head and looked back up at her. _This situation is quite serious. Come back down._

A giggle escaped her lips. "Make me." Saying those words sent a ripple of delight through her. 'Make' and 'Me' both started with an 'M'- just like her name! This fact struck Milla as unbelievably funny and she burst into laughter. "Make me," she repeated and the hilarity of it overtook her again.

Sasha did not seem to get the joke. She could practically hear him grinding his teeth. He reached out and snatched her by the ankle, gripping her just above the strap of her shoe. A warm pulse rocketed up her leg at the touch, arousal pooling between her legs as she gasped. He yanked her down, like a kid tugging at a balloon on a string, and she let him, thrilled by the pull, and by the tight hold that he had on her. She was hyperaware of the pressure his fingers were putting on her flesh, each one sending their own individual jolt of electricity that circulated throughout her whole body.

Encouraged by his success, Sasha moved his hand up to her knee and pulled again, the action eliciting an excited yelp from her. He grasped her by the hips when she got close enough and dragged her down the rest of the way. The sound of her heels clicking on the pavement reverberated in her head and rang in her ears.

Something alighted in Sasha's eyes then, something so beautiful that Milla thought she might cry, or laugh, or do both at the same time. His hands, still clutching her hips, played with the fabric of her dress, the hem of it lifting as he rubbed the material between his gloved-clad fingers ( and God, the way that it slid over her thighs was almost enough to bring her to orgasm right there). Unconsciously, they stepped closer to each other, an automatic attraction that neither one of them could break, as though both of them had magnets in their chests.

It was on the verge of hitting him, that same glorious euphoria that was coursing through her veins. He just needed something to tip him over the edge. Wordlessly, she took his left hand and brought it to her lips. Using her teeth, she removed the glove, slowly, so that he could feel the gentle caress of the leather as it left his skin. A smart move on her part- he inhaled sharply at the sensation, and his jaw finally loosened up enough for his mouth to drop open slightly. She let his glove fall to the ground and put his hand against her cheek, leaning into his warm palm.

The emotion that hit her then was indescribable. It could only be explained as the sense that everything in the world was right and that even if it all went to hell the next morning she'd at least have this moment of pure love and beauty to keep her buoyant through whatever the future had in store for her and Sasha. She was certain that he felt the same way. His emotions, usually masked by his dark glasses and stoic manner, were more open to her than they had ever been before, and she didn't know if that was due to her heightened emphatic abilities or if it was because these feelings were too powerful for even him to keep hidden.

"Milla," he croaked, his voice low and rough. A smile seemed to flicker on his face, there one moment and then gone the next, as though it wanted to stay but wasn't sure that it was allowed to. He stared at her with wide eyes, his thumb tracing her bottom lip as he struggled to remember the reason he had wanted her to come down through the rush of new, amazing sensory information that his brain was trying to process. "I…Do you…" He swallowed dryly and tried again. "Do you know where my glasses are?"

A giddy, high-pitched noise leapt out of her throat and suddenly she couldn't stop the tide of giggles from tumbling out of her mouth. She plucked his glasses from off the top of his head and put them on his face. "There they are!" she declared proudly before burying her face in his shoulder and rubbing her face against the cool leather of his jacket.

"Ah. Right. Thank you," he replied, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. His hands roamed her back, his fingers greedy for the satin fabric. "Did you know," he said, his normally serious tone completely overtaken by awe, "that your dress is the most tactilely perfect thing that currently exists in this universe?"

"I know," she murmured, her lips brushing against the hot skin of his neck. She slipped her arms around his shoulders and then they began to rise together.


End file.
